A Journey with the Enemy
by Sparkle-eyed Dreamer
Summary: Harry Potter has been hexed by a magical object. In order to save Harry, Ron and Hermione must embark on a journey...the same journey Draco must embark on to save his mother, who is dying of an unknown disease. Can the enemies get along, or will Ron becom
1. The story begins

The Great Hall was buzzing with the chatter of students. Forks clinked on plates. It was a Friday morning and the mail had come. At the Gryffindor table, Ron was scowling at his scrambled eggs.

"Ron, mate," Harry said. "I didn't know you hated eggs so much."

Ron looked up.

"What?" he said, "Hate eggs? Of course I don't." He shoveled the entire pile of eggs into his mouth, then resumed glaring at his plate.

"Well, what's wrong?" Hermione asked. She was sitting across from Harry and Ron.

"Oh, nothing," Ron said, "Just a letter from my parents about how my grades aren't 'up to par.' "

In actuality, the letter had said a lot more than that. Mr. Weasley had included a table comparing Ron's marks to those of his brothers. Even Fred and George had received better Potions grades. _Just one more reminder that I'm not as good as the rest of my family_, Ron thought.

"Well, you've been spending a lot of time practicing Quidditch," Hermione said, breaking into his brooding. "If you really put more time into your homework, you'd get better grades." She took a self-satisfied bite of waffle.

"Thanks for the lecture," Ron said, stabbing some pancakes and plopping them onto his plate. "But I don't have more time for studying. I have a life, you know."

"And I don't?" Hermione asked, eyebrows raised.

"Did I _say _that?" Ron asked. He filled his mouth with pancake.

"No, but you implied it. You _do _know what imply means, right? To express indirectly—"

"I know what imply means." Ron interrupted, "But thanks for your input, Miss know-it-all."

"Miss know-it-all? As if I haven't heard that—Harry? Harry!"

Unnoticed by Ron and Hermione, Harry had received a small brown package. As his two friends bickered, he had inspected it, turning the packet over. No message. All of a sudden, Harry had started shivering compulsively. Everything had gone black.

Ron leaned over to look at Harry, who had fallen to the ground. His limbs were jerking uncontrollably. Saliva bubbled around his mouth, and his eyes were rolled up to his head.

"Uh oh," Ron said. "Hermione, get help, quick."

Hermione started to run toward the teacher's table. "Dumbledore!"

At the Slytherin table, Draco Malfoy looked up from his omelet with amusement.

"Somebody has played a prank on Potter," he said. On either side of him, Crabbe and Goyle grunted.

"I wonder who," Draco continued. "It looks like a nasty one."

Harry was being carried away on a stretcher, with Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall walking beside it.

Draco looked at Crabbe.

"I wonder who, too," Crabbe said, since Draco was clearly expecting a response. But the subject didn't interest him much.

"Has your candy come yet?" he asked.

Once a week, Draco's mother sent him a package full of goodies and the occasional expensive trinket. Though most of the treats were store-bought, there were usually one or two that Narcissa had cooked herself, without even the help of her house elves. Draco always thought that those treats tasted the best, but recently, the packages had only contained store-bought candies. Today, no package had come at all.

"No, not yet," Draco said. Silently, he added, _I wonder why._

* * *

"If only we'd seen what Harry ate!" Hermione groaned. She and Ron were sitting at a table in the library, surrounded by a mess of books. It was two days after Harry had gone into a seizure at breakfast. He was now in a coma, and nobody knew what was wrong with him. All they knew was that he had received a small package from an anonymous sender, and apparently eaten whatever was inside it, since the package was empty when they found it beside him. Hermione and Ron had been reading all weekend, trying to figure out what might have caused the seizure and coma. 

"There's nothing here," Hermione sighed, pushing away a stack of books. "I am so exhausted." She put her head down on the table. Two days of consecutive reading had turned up no clues. She felt her eyes begin to tear up.

"It's all right, Hermione," Ron said. He leaned over and gave her shoulder a squeeze. "We'll figure it out."

Hermione's shoulders began to shake. Ron stared in consternation. His attempt at consolation had caused exactly the opposite result of what he had intended.

"Um..." he looked around the library. "Uh, I'll go put this stack of books away." He grabbed a few volumes and stood up quickly. Behind him, he heard Hermione's sobs continue.

Ron walked away, feeling guilty. He knew he shouldn't have left Hermione when she was crying. But he didn't know what to do! As he was shelving _100 poisonous treats_, it occurred to him that he should have sat beside Hermione, rubbed her back, and found a tissue to give her. _That wouldn't have been too hard,_ he scolded himself. _If she's still crying when I get back, that's exactly what I'll do_. He started shoving books into the shelf randomly.

"Tsk, tsk." Madam Pince appeared beside him, shaking her head. "Is that where they go?" She stared at Ron over her spectacles.

"Uh," Ron said.

* * *

Hermione heard Ron walk away, and suddenly felt very lonely in addition to being exhausted. _Ah well, that's Ron for you_, she thought, and dried her tears with her sleeve. Maybe it was better that he had left. She hated when people saw her cry. 

Hermione sighed and stared blankly at the table, which was still smothered with books.

"Can't find what you're looking for?"

Draco Malfoy was standing about five feet away, carrying a huge load of books. He looked at her inquiringly.

Hermione shook her head.

"Funny, since you practically live here," Draco continued. "I thought you knew where _everything _is."

He wasn't smirking. Was it an insult? Hermione was too tired to feel insulted.

Draco shifted his grip on the books and cleared his throat. Hermione looked at him more closely. He looked pale. His eyes were bloodshot.

"Do you happen to know of any good books about curing unknown diseases?" he asked. He almost sounded hopeful.

Hermione shook her head again.

Draco looked at her a moment more, then shrugged. He hitched his stack of books into a more comfortable position and moved away.

* * *

When Ron finally escaped from Madam Pince's lecture, Hermione wasn't crying anymore. She was just sitting at the table, looking at nothing. Ron couldn't decide whether he felt relieved or disappointed. 

"Come on, Hermione," he said. "Let's keep looking." He gave her an encouraging smile. He looked so concerned, Hermione forced herself to smile faintly in reply.

* * *

Draco laughed mirthlessly at himself as he settled his stack of books on an empty table. Asking Granger for help? But he had felt like talking. More specifically, he had felt like talking to someone who was as miserable as himself. Two days ago, after Harry had been carried out of the Great Hall on a stretcher, Draco had received a letter from Mell, his mother's house elf. Narcissa Malfoy was sick. Really sick. So sick that today she had sent him the second-to-last draft of her will for his approval. 

She was dying. And even the best doctors the Malfoy fortune could afford were not able to cure her. It was weird, to think of his mother dying. He had tried to imagine life without her, and for some reason, it seemed bleaker, colder.

Draco had spent the entire weekend cooped up in the library, looking for a book that might have a cure. He was starting to get desperate now, though. _How can I help her if even the best doctors can't? _he asked himself. He ran a hand through his hair. This was useless. Then again, Granger and Weasely were looking for a cure for Potter. If they were willing to do that for a friend, then certainly he would do so for his mother. He picked up a book and began reading.

Four hours later, Draco felt like his eyes were about to go on strike, and he was only halfway through the stack. He closed his eyes and leaned back in the chair.

"I don't know if this might help—" a voice said tentatively.

Draco opened his eyes. Hermione was holding out a book to him. He didn't move.

"Well, it helped me," Hermione said, and dropped the book onto the table. She turned on her heel and strode away quickly. _Of course, I get no thanks,_ she muttered to herself.

Draco rubbed his eyes and let his chair fall forward. He picked up the book Hermione had left. It was titled _Exactly the book you need._ He opened to the first page and read the first sentence.

"Is your loved one dying from an unknown disease?"

**A/N:**

That's it for now. Please review!


	2. The gatekeeper

"I can't believe we're going to fairyland, of all places, to find the cure for Harry," Ron said. "I mean, _fairyland?_" He twirled in a circle, fluttering his arms as if they were wings.

Hermione grabbed his arm to pull him along. They were walking from the castle to the lake.

"Obviously, no humans can cure Harry. If the fairies are able to, then to fairyland we go."

When they reached the water's edge, Ron asked "What do we do now?"

Hermione took out a notebook, into which she had scribbled copious notes.

"I still don't understand why you took notes," Ron added. "We could just have rented out the book."

Hermione shrugged, remembering with faint bitterness how Draco had refused to take the book, staring coolly at her. _I took all these notes just to help him? _she asked herself. Obviously he thought he was too superior to touch a muggle-born.

"It says that any large body of water will serve as a portal to the fairy world," Hermione said, forcing herself to focus. "We just need to stare at the water and recite these words."

Ron looked over her shoulder at the poem she had copied into the notebook.

"Together?" Ron asked.

"No. Just one of us. If we pronounce the words even slightly differently, we'll end up in different parts of fairyland."

"You say them," Ron said. "I don't want to mess up.

"All right," Hermione agreed. "The book said that if two people sit side-by-side facing the water, holding hands, then only one person needs to recite the words, and they will enter fairyland together."

Ron and Hermione settled themselves onto the ground.

"Wait—did you say holding hands?" Ron asked. He hated holding hands. His palms were always damp—clammy when he was cold, and sweaty when he was warm.

"Don't worry," Hermione said, taking a quick glance around. "There's no one here to see." She held out her hand.

"Let me see that notebook," Ron said, ignoring Hermione's proffered hand.

"Ron, I read the instructions five times. I know them inside and out!" Hermione held the notebook out of Ron's reach and offered her hand more pointedly this time.

"Of course you did," Ron said, "I just want to see if there's another way."

"What's wrong with holding my hand?"

"Nothing, nothing. I just—hate holding hands." By now his palms were sweating profusely.

'Don't be childish, Ron." Hermione grabbed for his hand.

Ron jerked it away, scowling. Hermione looked furious now.

"What, am I so _disgusting_ that you can't even hold my hand for five seconds?"

Though Hermione looked furious, she was actually deeply mortified. Why was Ron so ashamed to hold her hand? Was she that dorky?

"Well, look who's all huffy and puffy," Ron said.

"Fine, we'll just go separately and see where we end up!" Hermione snapped.

She shoved the notebook into his hands and turned away from Ron. Facing the water, she began to recite the spell. The world started to dissolve around her. It seemed as though rain were falling, all the colors around her began to fade into a toneless gray. The wind felt as though it were made of silk, or water. The ground beneath her began to melt. The grass, the light began to flow...

Suddenly, Hermione was standing in a forest glade, surrounded by slim trees with white boughs and tiny leaves. She turned slowly in a full circle. No Ron. There was, however, a short, pot-bellied dwarf sitting on a rock.

"Hello," he said. His voice was so low, it rumbled. "I am the gatekeeper of fairyland."

"I don't see any gate," Hermione said.

"Yes, I've no gate." The dwarf frowned. "But the idea is the same. It's my job to exact payment for your entry to fairyland." He was not longer frowning. In fact, he looked positively gleeful.

"Payment?" Hermione gasped. "I've got nothing."

"Nothing, you say?" The dwarf threw back his head and laughed. "You are mistaken, my dear. You've got lots of things I can take. Youth, for one. Intelligence, for another."

Hermione's eyes widened with horror.

"Yes, eyesight too," the dwarf rumbled. "What shall I take?" He seemed to be asking himself more than Hermione.

"The book said nothing about payment," Hermione said, her voice shrill.

"Hm?" The dwarf seemed lost in thought. "Oh, this book?" With a snap of his fingers, _Exactly the book you need _appeared in his hand. He grinned a toothy grin at Hermione. "This book was written three hundred years ago. Things have changed since then."

"Well," Hermione said, regaining her composure. "In that case, it was incorrectly titled. It's not 'Exactly the book I need' if it doesn't contain all the pertinent infor—"

"Yeah, yeah." The dwarf waved his hand dismissively. "You can take that up with the author. Now stop your chatter, I need to decide what to take."

"My robe!" Hermione exclaimed, beginning to pull her arms out of the sleeves. "It's very warm."

"Shush! I have no need for robes."

"Take...my wand!" Hermione really didn't want to give up her wand, but when it came down to things, her wand was more replaceable than her youth. Or her intelligence. Or her eyesight.

The dwarf looked at her wand with distaste.

"I have no use for your wand. Human wands don't work here in fairyland."

"Certainly there must be some way I can pay, without having anything taken from me," Hermione said. "I'm willing to work."

"Quiet, I'm thinking!" the dwarf said.

"Please, sir—"

"That's it!" The dwarf snapped his fingers. "I'll take your voice. Then you won't be able to bother anyone with your obnoxious comments."

Hermione was speechless. Literally. Speechless.

"Ah! Another human has arrived," the dwarf said. He now spoke with Hermione's voice. It was unnerving. He stood up to leave. Hermione grabbed his arm, her eyes pleading.

"Yes, yes, you'll get your voice back when you leave fairyland, as long as you don't steal anything." The dwarf said irritably. Then he spun in a circle and disappeared. The glade was empty.

**A/N:**

Does this story make sense at all? Please review and tell me what you think! Thanks.


	3. Ron's turn

Some distance to the east, Ron had finally appeared in fairyland, after messing up the recitation three times.

"Hermione?" he called out, looking around. He was still clutching her notebook. "Hermione?"

"Her my only? That's not correct grammar." Ron turned around, thinking that Hermione stood behind him. Instead, he came face to face with a dwarf. A very cheerful dwarf. It was so cheerful, it almost frightened him.

"I'm looking for my friend," Ron said.

"Well, you should be looking for me." The dwarf had a strangely feminine voice. "I'm the one you have to pay to get into fairyland."

"I'm already in fairyland," Ron pointed out.

"Well, then...pay to stay." The dwarf held out a palm.

"Uh," Ron said. He turned his pockets inside out. He had a pair of dice, a piece of gum, and two coins. The dwarf sniffed scornfully.

"Not suitable. I guess I'll just take...your hair."

"My hair?" Ron clutched his head with both hands. "Why would you take my hair?"

The dwarf pointed meaningfully at his bald pate.

"Ahh," Ron said. He tried to imagine himself bald.

"Isn't there something else you could take?" Ron asked.

The dwarf sized Ron up.

"I could take your height. Or perhaps your strength. Or your hearing. You've got keen ears. Never mind about the hair," the dwarf said grandly, "I'll take your hearing."

"No, no," Ron said, backtracking. "I'd really much rather you take my hair."

"Changing your mind now?" The dwarf chuckled. "But I've got my heart set on your hearing."

"My freckles!" Ron said. "Why don't you take my freckles?"

The dwarf examined him critically.

"Your freckles would not flatter me," he decided. "I'll take your hair." The dwarf clicked his tongue, and Ron's red hair appeared on his scalp.

Ron touched his head. It was hairless.

"Will my hair grow back?" Ron asked.

The dwarf looked at him with incredulity.

"If your hair grows back on your head, it won't grow out on my head. No, no, I took the _ability to grow hair_ from you."

Ron winced.

"Any way to get it back?"

"Yeah, yeah," the dwarf said reluctantly. "When you leave fairyland, the ability to grow hair will be returned to you." He trundled off, muttering something about "stupid laws won't let me keep my earnings."

**A/N:**

Coming up: What will the dwarf take from Draco?

Please review! Is this story too boring? What parts don't you like? What parts do you like? I'd love some feedback!


	4. Draco's Turn

Wow, Draco thought. Looking around, all he could see were tall, slender trees in every direction. Their foliage seemed to twinkle, and a light wind sent their small, silvery leaves flying to the ground like bright rain. The trunks were not growing too close together, and gentle rays of sunlight filled the spaces in between. Draco stared in wonder. This place was beautiful. Then he thought, Where is this place? Suddenly, Draco realized that he didn't know where he was.

As in, he couldn't remember how he had gotten here, or where he had come from. Now that he thought about it, he realized that he didn't even know what his name was. It wasn't that he had lost all of his memory—he still remembered how to walk, for instance, and that trees were called trees—it was just that he had lost all the memories unique to himself.

Well, Draco decided, the only thing to do was start figuring out as much about himself as he could.

He emptied out the pockets of his robe. There was a fancy looking pocket knife in his left pocket, with a handle made of smooth green stone. There was also a set of playing cards and a vial of some clear liquid. Draco held up the vial to the sun. Light arced through the liquid. It seemed harmless enough, but some habit of caution kept him from sniffing the fumes or even opening the bottle cap. He checked the right pocket. It held a wand with a handle of dark mahogany and an empty velvet bag. Draco folded up the velvet bag and placed it, along with the wand, back into his pocket.

Now to examine the robe itself. It was made of black wool and lined with green silk. Tiny stitching by the neck said, "Custom tailored by Wizard Finery." The outside of the left sleeve had a coat of arms sewn on with "Slytherin" written above it and "Hogwarts" below. Neither word rang a bell.

Draco examined his clothing. He was wearing khakis and a black shirt with emerald cuff links. _I must like the color green, _Draco thought. He checked the pockets of his khakis. They were both empty except for a piece of paper folded in half. It was a map, titled "Fairyland." In the very center was a mountain, labeled "Half-peak." It truly was half a peak. One side was rugged forest, the other was sheer cliff. Half-peak! The word jogged his memory. Someone had taken away his memory, but allowed him to remember a few things. Half-peak was where he wanted to go. He wanted to speak to the healers of half-peak. Because his mother was dying.

His mother was dying. With that remembrance came a surge of sadness. Even though he couldn't remember his mother's face, or her voice, or anything she had ever said or done, he knew that she loved him, and that he loved her. And she was dying.

Suddenly, Draco realized that he was sitting on the ground. When had he sat down? The tiny leaves rustled and eddied about him. Well, there was no time to sit. He had to get to Half-peak. Draco stood up, feeling slightly shaky in the knees. He dusted off his robe and examined the map more closely. Now he knew where to go. But where was he? It didn't help to know that he was in a forest; there were three on the map. The Forest of Faces ran into the Forest of Fae, and Flutter Forest was at the top of the map.

Draco scanned his surroundings. Was that a faint path, over there to his right? There was nothing else to do but start walking along the path in one direction, and see what he could find.

About fifteen minutes later, Draco saw the trees begin to thin. He was coming to a clearing. The sunlight filled the air with a golden haze, and glowed on the hair of the girl sitting in the middle of the clearing. She was a very beautiful girl, Draco thought. Her features were rather plain, but she had the most beautiful expression: intelligent, thoughtful, truthful, as if she would never say something she didn't mean, or do something she didn't think was right. Maybe she knew where they were on the map.

As Draco approached, the girl turned her head towards him and looked up. He wished he could read her expression. It had changed when she saw him; was it confusion, relief, caution? Whatever her expression, she had recognized him. Draco was sure of it. But he couldn't remember who she was.

"Hi," Draco said, when they were about a meter apart. She didn't reply, just looked up at him with patient, watchful eyes. Draco suddenly felt shy.

"Do you know where we are?" he asked, "What forest this is?"

She shook her head no. The motion made the glints of sunlight in her hair dance. Then she seemed to come to a decision. She stood up and pulled a small notepad from her robe, detaching a pen from it and beginning to write. Draco moved closer to read over her shoulder.

"I can't talk. A dwarf took my voice away."

Draco wondered if the dwarf who had taken her voice away had also stolen his memories.

The girl continued writing.

"Have you seen Ron anywhere?"

Obviously she expected him to know who Ron was. Draco looked off in the distance.

"No, I haven't."

She touched his arm. Draco looked at her. She searched his face, as if trying to determine whether or not he was telling the truth.

"I don't know where Ron is," Draco said, as directly and honestly as he could. The girl nodded and dropped her hand. She looked sad.

"Well," Draco said, trying to think of a way to help her, "Where was the last place you saw him?"

"Hogwarts," the girl wrote.

Hogwarts. The name on his robe. He was supposed to know where it was, but he didn't. Better not follow that line of conversation. He wasn't quite sure he trusted the girl enough yet to tell her that he had lost his memory. After all, she hadn't trusted him. He had no clue what his relationship to her was like. He had better not say anything about Hogwarts and reveal his ignorance.

"Where is he going to?"

"We were going to go to Half-peak."

"That's where I'm going, right now," Draco said. "Why don't you come with me. We might meet him on the way, or else there."

The girl looked at him, surprised.

"Well, I don't know where we are, right now, but I'm just going to walk in one direction until I find a landmark I recognize on the map."

The girl nodded and wrote, "I'll come with you." The two set off together down the winding path.


	5. Ron v Draco

When Hermione and Draco had been walking for a little while, they came to a great wall cutting across their path. It was made of a lustrous metal like silver, but brighter. It was not a solid sheet of metal, more like a chain-link fence, except that the metal wire was as thick as the diameter of a finger and woven in flower-like designs. It was about twenty feet high. 

Hermione and Draco stopped in front of it and looked at each other.

"Well," Draco said. He grabbed the fence with both hands and tried to shake it, but it didn't budge. Hermione looked around. The fence stretched away in both directions.

"Well," Draco repeated, looking up. "Should we try climbing it?"

Hermione shrugged, but put one foot through the fence, found a handhold, and pulled herself up. Draco followed suit. About a quarter up the fence, Draco noticed that he felt dizzy. There was a ringing sound in his head, a constant whine. The metal seemed to hum beneath his hands. But the girl beside him was still climbing doggedly, so he forced himself to continue.

Halfway up the fence, Draco realized that the faint dizziness that had accompanied his first step was now an insistent pounding headache, and the metal seemed to be vibrating, trying to shake him off. He paused for breath.

Hermione, who had been climbing with her eyes closed because she didn't like heights, also paused to take a peek at their progress. She felt light-headed and dizzy, but thought it must be because of her fear of heights. She didn't think she could climb any more, and wanted to say so, but there was no way to pull out her notepad at this height and write in it.

Suddenly, Hermione noticed that there were two figures standing in the path on the other side of the fence. They were identical, with long, thin red hair blowing in the wind and very blue, very cold eyes. They were staring at her and Draco. Hermione barely had time to suppress a shudder before the two raised their hands in a synchronized forceful gesture. It felt like a sonic boom. Hermione was nearly thrown off the fence, holding on only with one hand while the other flailed. But before she could get a good grip, gale force winds started up. A cold, sleety rain began to fall.

Draco, to her right, clung to the fence with all his might. He had to get to the girl, but loosening even one grip was precarious. Bracing his body with both arms and his right foot, he moved his left foot over. Then his right foot. Then his left hand, and finally his right. He kept his face towards the girl, and away from the brunt of the wind, but his eyes were still tearing up. With slitted eyes, he continued inching over until he was right beside her. Then the hail started.

Draco tried to ignore the sharp thuds of pain, and wondered dully how the girl was managing to hold on. He pushed his right arm through the fence up to the elbow, making sure it was secure, then let go of his left hand.

The girl was being blown out from the fence at a 45 degree angle. Draco reached out and grabbed her waist. A golf-ball-sized hailstone slammed into his right shoulder, but he just kept pulling her to the fence. Once the girl had gotten a secure foothold, Draco yelled in her ear,

"Climb down!"

As Hermione nodded, a hailstone struck her temple. She reeled, but Draco's arm was strong against her back. Together, the two slowly worked their way down, Draco shielding Hermione as best he could.

The moment the two stepped down from the fence to the path, the storm stopped.

In the sudden silence, Hermione and Draco stared through the fence at the now empty road, then looked at each other. Rain dripped off Draco's forehead and into his eyes. He wiped it away with his hand. His shoulder ached.

Hermione looked even worse, dazed from the hailstone that had struck her temple, her hair dark and matted from the wind and rain, but there was a new look in her eyes as she regarded Draco. She smiled faintly. Returning the smile, he said dryly,

"Well, we're not _too_ much the worse for the wear."

He began to struggle out of his sopping wet robes, then helped Hermione slip out of hers. Beneath the robes, both of them were damp, but at least not soaked through.

Hermione pantomimed something, then looked expectantly at Draco.

"Sorry, I don't understand," he said.

Hermione repeated the gesture, pretending to draw something from her pocket and then examining it closely.

"Oh," Draco said, "the map!" With his and Hermione's robes draped over his left arm, he pulled the map out with his right hand and gave it to Hermione. She unfolded it with care and they both bent their heads over it. Hermione pointed. There was a thin, scraggly line that curved through the bottom half of the map, separating the Forest of Faces and Fae Forest.

"You think we're in the Forest of Faces?" Draco asked. It made sense--maybe the two red-haired guards were faeries blocking their entrance into Fae Forest. Draco noted the angle of the path to the wall.

"We need to go this way," he said, gesturing. "It'd be shorter if we could cut through Fae Forest, but if we follow this wall we will still be going in the right general direction." Above Fae Forest was a patch of desert and above the desert their destination: Half-peak. The wall encircled Fae Forest, not cutting through the desert.

Hermione and Draco started off along the wall. Draco was enjoying walking with her at his side when she suddenly turned to him and pantomimed cupping her hands around her mouth, calling for someone. Her worried eyes beseeched him to understand.

_Ron_, Draco remembered. When he first found her, she had been looking for someone named Ron. Draco felt grumpy. Who was this Ron she cared so much about? Nonetheless, he cupped his hands around his mouth and pitched his voice low to carry farther,

"Ron!" After twenty seconds, he called, "Ron!" again.

The robes were dry and Draco's voice hoarse by the time they caught sight of a pale figure cresting the hill in front of them, running in their direction.

"Hermione!" the figure cried out.

Hermione's eyes, which had been huge with anxiety, now brightened. She took off at a run. _This must be Ron ,_ Draco thought as he watched her give the figure a big hug. _Well, now I know what her name is. Hermione._

Draco scrutinized Ron as he approached the two. Tall, gangly, pale, bald. _Weird kid_, Draco decided.

Ron turned to Draco, seeming to notice him for the first time.

"What is he doing here?" Ron exclaimed. Clearly, Draco realized, Ron didn't like him at all.

"Why are you walking with him?" Ron continued, "And why was _he_ calling my name?"

Draco wordlessly pulled the notepad and pen from Hermione's robe and handed it to her.

As Hermione scribbled away, Ron scowled at Draco, who arranged his features into an impassive expression. The two of them stood in a silent face-off until Hermione handed Ron the notebook. Ron read quickly and said,

"Well, now that I'm here, you don't have to travel with that whey-faced snob anymore."

"I'd rather be whey-faced than bald and ugly," Draco said. Hermione shot a glance at him, looking surprised at the expression on his face. Draco immediately regretted his words.

"The bloody dwarf took my hair away," Ron said. "I can't imagine what he took from you. Maybe your--ouch!" He stopped as Hermione stepped on his foot. Hermione grabbed the notebook from him and scribbled into it. Ron read over her shoulder.

"No," Ron protested. "We don't need to keep together for safety. A coward won't do us any good. I will not--_we_ will not travel with _Malfoy_."

"We're traveling in the same direction," Draco said neutrally. Inwardly, he took note of what Ron had just said. _My name must be Malfoy,_ he realized.

Hermione began writing again, a look of exasperation on her face. She thrust the notebook beneath Ron's nose. His expression changed.

"All right," Ron said. "We'll keep pace with you."

Draco wondered what Hermione had written. He suspected it had something to do with the fact that he had a map. The three of them set off, following the fence, Hermione between Ron and Draco as a buffer.

A brisk breeze started up and Hermione began to shiver. Draco draped her robe around her shoulders. Ron looked over in surprise and started shrugging out of his robe, which Draco noticed was ragged and torn.

"Hermione," Ron said, "You don't have to wear that slimy Slytherin's robe--you can wear mine."

"This is Hermione's robe," Draco said. Ron looked at Hermione, who nodded.

"Oh," Ron said. "Wait, you were carrying Hermione's robe?" Draco nodded and smirked, since Hermione wasn't looking. Ron's face turned sullen. The three of them continued walking in silence.


End file.
